Tag Archives: parents

What My Father Taught Me

. . . He was my fighter, my magician,

my master of pretense, and the day

mother took too many aspirin,

he could do anything for me

but make me disappear.

–Excerpt from “What My Father Taught Me” in Edges by Donna Pucciani (Purple Flag, Chicago, 2016).



The photos emerge

from their hiding place in the cellar,

sepia fish, or paper ghosts

with white deckled borders.

Our fathers, long dead, boast

the cheerful sibilance of baldness,

a halo in the camera’s flash.

Our mothers, bedecked

in aprons and strange eyeglasses,

flap like crows’ wings.

–excerpt from “Recollected” in A Light Dusting of Breath by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective/Purple Flag, 2015). First published in Journal of the American Medical Association.